


Lines of lightning

by NamelesslyNightlock



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (mostly to himself), (spoilers: he isn't), Confusion, Denial, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, Fluff, Loki (Marvel) Lies, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Loki Is Bad At Feelings, Loki thinks he's Thor's soulmate, M/M, Protective Loki (Marvel), Protective Tony Stark, Soulmates, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Unapologetically excessive use of brackets, most of the time anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-11 11:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16474592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelesslyNightlock/pseuds/NamelesslyNightlock
Summary: Tony is ecstatic when he finally finds his soulmate, right up until the moment that he gets thrown through the window. After that, he’s just determined towin.Loki, on the other hand, has known his match for as long as he can remember. At least he thinks he has, and he’s so sure of his own beliefs that he’s entirely unprepared when his life is flipped upside down.Both are about to learn that when it comes to finding the right person to love, it’s not always about fate. Sometimes, happiness takes a choice.





	Lines of lightning

**Author's Note:**

> …I think the thesaurus deserves at least 12% of the credit on this one.

When Tony’s soulmate threw him out of the penthouse window– well, yeah, he was pretty devastated.

Mostly, though, he just saw it as a challenge, and Tony had never been one to back down easy.

For as long as he could remember, Loki had always known that Thor was his match. He’d known it from long before his mother had even told him what it meant, before she’d explained about the feeling that everyone had, an impression left on their souls that would lead them to the one being in the world who would always stand by their side, who would never truly betray them.

Loki’s impression had always sat deep in his chest, burning powerful and electric. It was something that felt like lightning crackling through his bones, and it made him feel strong, like he could achieve whatever he wanted.

Thor had always felt an impression of _green_ , he said. The bright green of Loki’s eyes, the green that matched the colour of his seiðr.

It seemed fitting, in a way– Thor felt Loki’s magic, and Loki felt his lightning.

They were the best of brothers, always keeping each other safe. Loki would use his seiðr to help Thor when he needed, and Thor would stop the bullies. They were inseparable all through childhood and remained so as adults. Thor’s friends lamented his presence, but never in range of Thor’s hearing, knowing that doing so would only incite his wrath. And even when they were at their lowest, they didn’t truly betray each other, not really. Thor hadn’t known about Laufey, after all, and when Loki lied about Odin and turned the Bifröst against Jotunheim, he’d done it for _Thor_ , he’d done it not only to prove that he wasn’t a monster but also to remove the _real_ monsters once and for all.

Everything he’d done had been for Thor, and when Thor had found Loki in possession of the Tesseract and making trouble for the mortals, his first thought had been to ask Loki to come home. Even while he was in the clutches of Thanos’ bidding, Loki revelled in the knowledge that nothing he could do would ever make Thor turn from him.

Loki had always thought it a blessing, to be matched with his brother.

So when some upstart Midgardian with a cocky attitude and a sharp mind thought he could claim Loki as his own—

Well.

In that circumstance, throwing him through the window was only logical, really.

(The fact that Loki was entirely aware of the mortal’s ability to save himself from such a fall was, of course, irrelevant.)

Tony thought that Loki looked sort of… impressively serene, lying there on the floor of the spare bedroom, back flat against the expensive carpet, a pillow under his head, and eyes staring up at the ceiling. His hands were resting on his stomach, bound together in a position that had to be uncomfortable with a set of cuffs that Thor had pulled from under his cloak.

They hadn’t been able to lock him back up in Hulk’s room on the Helicarrier, since that had been pretty thoroughly destroyed, and they’d all been reluctant to move him through the streets after everything if they didn’t have a secure place to leave him. So Tony had offered his only mostly destroyed penthouse, playing it off as being lazy and not wanting to move from his home when he was already there. Thor swore black and blue that Loki wasn’t going to escape again, but had still bound and muzzled him, locking away his powers and, _apparently_ , rendering him harmless.

There was a pinch to Thor’s expression when he said it that suggested he didn’t really believe his own words, and Tony was inclined the same way. Even now, trussed up and with his mouth clamped shut by a truly painful looking contraption, Loki still looked like he was _thinking_ , and Tony knew better than anyone just how dangerous that could be.

Still, Tony just stood and watched for a moment, savouring the way that the bright feeling he’d grown used to ignoring danced and sparked and took his breath away while Loki was in his sights.

Tony’s impression had always been strange. It was like nothing he’d ever felt outside of the powerful, pulsing flare under his skin, and he found it difficult to describe. Not quite warm, not quite cold, but a constant sensation of _brightness_ that felt like it lit up his very soul. Which, you know, was kind of fitting, really.

He doubted he would ever meet his soulmate, though. Someone who inspired an impression of something so fantastically impossible just had to be too good to be true– and probably too good for Tony, as well.

But Tony was an expert at holding on to things he probably didn’t deserve, and he’d searched just as diligently– or maybe more so, than anyone else. He’d travelled the world, he’d experienced everything money could buy, and yet– never had he felt anything resembling that amazing spark of _bright_ that danced across every nerve.

Years and years, and nothing ever came close.

Then, he found Loki.

When he’d landed in Stuttgart, with ACDC blaring and repulsors blazing, he was able to feel a faint something in the air, a tiny hint of impossible that just sent a small shiver of recognition up his spine. It wasn’t enough to throw him off his game, though, and his classy “ _Make your move, Reindeer Games”_ was delivered with maximum impact. But then Loki had held up his hands and his armour had shimmered away in a bright glow and a static pulse, and, _ngh._

Yeah, Tony had felt it then.

Of course, as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t _say_ anything. First, Rogers had been there, and excuse Tony for not wanting to spend his very first conversation with his soulmate in the presence of the guy his dad had waxed on about for the better part of his childhood. Then he had to fight off the legit god of thunder– during which Tony was more afraid of losing Loki for his own sake than he was of losing their biggest lead on the Tesseract (and, well, Tony’s priorities had never really been honourable, anyway). After that, Loki’s rather very ripped big brother was there (just, no) and _then_ Loki was constantly watched with cameras, anyway.

So when they were finally alone in Tony’s own home– how was he supposed to resist that?

Admittedly, he could have used a little more tact, but defenestration was definitely an overreaction. He hadn’t even said anything _graphic_.

Tony knew that Loki had to be aware that he was being watched, but still he remained staring at the ceiling, his eyes pensive but otherwise blank. If Tony wanted a conversation, he was going to have to be the one to make the first move.

 _Half_ a conversation, Tony thought with a wince.

Still, he had to start _somewhere_.

“Loki?” There was no response, even when Tony stepped halfway into the room and sat on the floor. He figured he was mostly safe, since even though Loki was perfectly capable of standing up and moving around, he didn’t seem inclined to do so at the moment.

And besides, Tony hadn’t _actually_ been harmed by the window incident, even if it had been slightly traumatic.

“Come on, Rock of Ages, throw me a bone here.”

Still nothing.

Tony was half tempted to reach out and poke him with his foot, but even he could acknowledge that it might end with his entire leg being forcibly detached. Who knew what an irritated god could do with a set of manacles, right?

“Look,” Tony said instead. “You don’t like me, but I’m not all that keen on you either, to be honest—“

Loki turned his head and glared at that, and Tony grinned in triumph.

“Oh, come on. You do realise I _just_ finished building this tower, right? Look at it, Loki. You a ruined a perfectly good tower, is what you did. You even managed to pull my name off the side.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, and Tony almost would have said he was amused.

“Oh, right. You also threw me out a window, and I’m not going to forget _that_ anytime soon.”

Green eyes rolled, and Tony pouted.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I got a few good hits in too, and don’t you forget it. The mind control thing, though? Not cool. If we’re going be soulmates, you’re going to have not do that again.”

The glare was back, then, and Tony was starting to think that he’d probably be seeing a lot of it in the future.

Well, except…

“Guess you won’t have much chance, though, considering you’ll be going back to Asgard in the morning.” Tony frowned. “What will they do? Lock you up?”

Loki scowled, and turned back to face the ceiling.

“Hey, no, sorry,” Tony said. “I didn’t mean to upset you, I swear. Though you have to admit, you do kind of deserve it.”

Loki’s face was pretty expressive, and Tony had seen other people use the ‘why the hell are you even here’ frown enough times to recognise it.

(It still hurt.)

“I just…” Tony sighed, and rubbed at his face. Hard. Maybe he shouldn’t have bothered?

 _No_.

Loki was his soulmate. He was just being _stubborn._

Well, if this was going to turn into a battle of wills, then Tony certainly wasn’t going to be the first to back down.

“I just wanted to talk, I guess,” Tony said, glancing down to where his hands were twisting in his lap. He pressed his palms against his knees instead, trying to still them. “I’ve always believed in the soulmate thing, I mean, how could I not, with this _feeling_ scratching under my skin all the time? But, you know how some people meet their soulmate, and say it’s just like _bang_ , best buds forever, or they have sex on the floor, or they never part ever again? I call bullshit.” Tony looked back up to see that Loki was watching him now, a small crease between his brows. “I’ve always thought of the impression as like a sign, you know? A pointer, telling you go a certain way, but you still have to travel the distance yourself. Do you know what I mean?”

Predictably, there wasn’t really a response– but Loki _did_ pull himself into a sitting position, then, crossing his legs and mirroring Tony. His frown had deepened, and although he looked like he didn’t disagree with what Tony was saying, he didn’t seem to be on board with the argument, either.

He almost seemed… confused.

Tony frowned as well, then, because he’d just had a single, worrying thought—

“Do they not have soulmates on Asgard?”

Slowly, Loki nodded.

“Wait,” Tony said. “Is that yes they don’t, or a yes they do?”

The frown returned for a moment, and then Loki tapped his fingers together twice.

Tony deflated in relief. But if Loki knew what he was talking about, then why did he still look so confused?

“What is it, then?” Tony asked. “Come on, Rudolph, if I’m your soulmate don’t I deserve to know what it is about soulmates that puts you off so much?”

Loki’s only response was to lie back down and close his eyes, completely blocking Tony out, now.

“If you won’t tell me,” Tony said, already bracing for impact, “then I guess I’m just going to have to ask Thor.”

To be honest, Tony figured he probably deserved the pillow that was flung at his head.

(Still. _Rude._ )

Asgard’s cells were infinitely superior to Midgard’s, Loki decided. For starters, he had been granted proper furniture and a few books; the absence of a constant threat of being dropped thirty thousand feet was also a definite improvement; and the company was infinitely better.

Well.

It _was_ , anyway, until Thor decided to visit.

When Loki heard Thor’s distinctive thundering steps, he made sure that he was perched nonchalantly on his fauteuil, a book in his hand for use as an excuse to ignore his brother. Maybe, if he remained silent, Thor would reveal more than if he were trying to incite an argument.

(It had worked well with Stark, after all.)

So Loki didn’t look up as Thor paused outside his cell, and he gave no indication of even acknowledging his presence as Thor began to speak.

“Are you well, brother?”

Even if Loki had not been actively ignoring him, that question would _not_ have warranted a response.

Thor sighed, apparently recognising his misstep. “Loki,” he said. “Will you not speak with me?”

Hmm, no.

“After everything you’ve done, you can’t be upset that you’re in here,” Thor tried. “Loki, you’re my brother, and I love you, but all of this destruction _has_ to stop.”

Loki turned a page.

“You realise that father wanted to have you executed, Loki?” Thor said. “If it weren’t for mother, you would have been. As it stands you’re not ever going to get out of here. Even if you reform, I doubt father will allow it.” There was a faint rustle of fabric, like maybe Thor was trying to calm himself. “I know you believe you can escape. But if I tell father about the failsafe I know you must have placed on these cells when you were parading around as king—“

“No,” Loki interrupted before he could stop himself. Oh well, if the plan was ruined anyway– he closed his book with a snap and left it on the seat as he approached the edge of his cell. “You won’t.”

“After everything you’ve done… I hardly recognise you any more,” Thor said. “Don’t presume to know what I will and will not do.”

“You would not betray me like that, Thor,” Loki said, the triumph audible in his tone. “You _can’t_.”

“I’m not so sure anymore, Loki.”

There was no need for further explanation. As always, Thor’s expression said exactly what he meant.

Loki laughed bitterly, disbelievingly, despite the way that something cold froze around his heart. “What? Decided that you don’t want to be matched with a Frost Giant, have you? Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t think it works that way. You’re stuck with me.”

Thor smiled, sad but fond. “No, Loki,” he said, and Loki _flinched_ at the echo in his words. “Back on Midgard, I… well. It felt stronger than it has before, more of a likeness than it ever was with you.”

“So you’re just going to toss me aside?” Loki asked, his voice rising. “Leave me in the cell to _rot?_ ”

“No, you did that yourself.” Thor’s voice had turned sad, now. “You will always be my brother, but I believe that if you wish to be truly happy, you will find your match in someone else. I hope that you have not ruined your chance for that.”

Snarling against the pain of it, Loki leaned forward and growled, “I will _not_ be matched to a _mortal—“_

“I don’t think it works that way, Loki,” Thor echoed, and Loki snapped his teeth together in annoyance. Then he flinched as a hopeful smile began to stretch across Thor’s lips. “Might this mean that you have also found your match, brother?”

Loki wanted to snap _yes_ , that he’d always known, that everything Thor was saying was false. Stark must have told Thor about his ridiculous fabrications like he’d threatened, and Thor must have seen it as an opportunity to torture Loki some more. But, Thor sounded genuinely curious, like he truly didn’t know what had happened with Tony Stark. That could only mean that Thor had found someone himself, someone who matched his _green_ better than Loki did.

(And _that_ hurt, but– if Thor truly was his match, then surely he wouldn’t be able to wound him so grievously?)

Loki didn’t want to believe it. He couldn’t. Because if there was nothing tying them together, no fantastic force that ensured Thor would always stand by his side, then it meant that Thor really could _leave_.

(It meant that yet another part of his life had turned into a _lie_.)

Thor seemed genuinely glad as he left, stating that maybe he wouldn’t tell Odin about the failsafe, if it meant that Loki might have a chance to be with the person who would always support him.

He did make Loki promise that he wouldn’t ever even try to steal another Infinity Stone, though.

Loki huffed and leaned back against the wall of his cell, putting on a show of composed indifference for the guards and the other prisoners.

Thor would come back.

(Loki knew that he wouldn’t.)

Hours and days and weeks, with nothing to do but to entertain himself with illusions or books or honing his skills. He did his best to ignore the thrilling current that sparked with every beat of his heart, but it was inevitable that his thoughts would turn to the infuriating human who had claimed Loki as his own– the arrogant mortal who believed that he could inspire the same impression of electric power as the god of thunder himself.

Yet despite his irritation, Loki couldn’t help but think on the way that the mortal had made him _feel_.

Stark’s presence had sent an electric spark jolting through Loki’s body, igniting his blood in a way that Thor’s lightning had never managed. But surely that was just from the aura of the device in Stark’s chest, the glowing blue light that had managed to withstand the power of the Mind Stone itself. It was possible that a device like _that_ was strong enough to incite such a sensation.

(He tried to forget that the device itself had been created by Tony Stark.)

_So I guess we’re soulmates, Reindeer Games. Fancy calling off the invasion in favour of a stiff drink and roll in the hay?_

Loki shuddered just thinking about it.

It was most certainly the boredom that had Loki leaving the safety of his cell, in the end. That, and irritation, because Stark definitely deserved to be put in his place for his brashness.

And if Loki had to actually _see_ him to do so, then, well.

So be it.

When Loki escaped Asgard, it was only to be expected, really. Tony didn’t think any of them actually believed that he’d stay locked up for long, especially not when Thor wore that goddamn puppy dog smirk as he told them that Loki was in the most secure cell possible. Honestly, the guy just wasn’t in his right mind when it came to his maniacal little brother.

(Neither was Tony, to be honest.)

The first time they got a report of Loki wreaking havoc and causing chaos, Tony was suited up and in the skies before any of the others had even registered the alarm.

“Hey, Reindeer Games, back already?” Tony dodged a blast of magic, and then swooped back down and crossed his arms, grinning at the way that the spark under his skin began to _sing_. “Now, now, that wasn’t very nice at all. Is that any way to treat your soulmate?”

“Iron man,” said Loki, smirking up at him wolfishly, but apparently choosing to completely ignore the second question. “I had hoped to draw you out.”

“Aw, you liked our conversation that much?”

Loki’s smirk widened into a full-blown grin. “Oh, actually, I was hoping to repeat our earlier meeting.”

Tony laughed in surprise at the returned humour. “You’ll have to catch me, first!”

By the time the other Avengers made it to them, Loki had all but abandoned his mission of enchanting park benches to bite the people who sat on them and instead was laughing as he shot magic after Tony, supposedly trying to turn him into a pigeon.

Which, you know, was slightly insulting. If Tony was going to get turned into a bird, he deserved to be an eagle at _least_.

Over the next few weeks, all of their fights ended up degenerating into something similar, and even when the other Avengers were present, they bantered across the battlefield with just as many jokes as they did insults. Tony looked forward to their little scuffles with the kind of light hearted excitement he hadn’t experienced in years– and when Loki’s pranks grew more and more frequent and increasingly pointless, he started to hope that maybe Loki did, too.

If this was all Tony was going to get, then he thought that maybe he’d be willing to take it.

(That didn’t mean he was going to stop fighting for more, though– because if anything, Tony was only starting to fall deeper into dangerous territory.)

“Okay,” said Agent Barton, pointing frustratedly at Stark with an arrow he had clasped in his hand. “This has to stop.”

Stark tilted his head in faux confusion. “What does?”

Barton’s responding glare was positively hilarious, and Loki had to really work to stop himself from laughing and giving away his position.

The Avengers were having a little time out from rounding up Loki’s most recent bit of fun, and Loki was enjoying himself watching them, hidden from view with a simple spell. They were all tired and grimy, covered with the evidence of exertion. Stark was still in his suit, but the helmet was retracted so that he could drink some water from the bottles Agent Romanoff had managed to procure. That was good– Loki liked to entertain himself by watching all the tiny expressions that flitted across Stark’s face, the smallest indications of the thoughts that brewed behind his brown eyes.

Stark had been raised in a world of business moguls and liars, not that much different from how Loki had been raised himself. Yet even so, Stark’s face remained a tribute to the deep emotions the man was ruled by. As long as you watched closely, and as long as you learned what to look for, those emotions painted a very interesting picture across an otherwise impenetrable mask.

Loki had quickly come to the conclusion that it was worth the effort.

“You know exactly what he’s talking about, Stark,” said Rogers, his tone betraying the way he was refraining from rolling his eyes.

Stark blinked innocently, and Loki felt a flash of amusement when he noticed the corners of Stark’s lips twitching, as if he were holding back a laugh of his own.

“The flirting, Tony,” Barton wailed. “You need to stop the flirting!”

“I think it’s cute,” said Romanoff.

“Cute?” Barton asked in horror. “ _Cute?_  This is Loki we're talking about, he’s certifiably _insane!_ ”

Thor looked about to complain, but for possibly the first time ever – when it came to defending Loki, at least – he was beaten to the punch.

“Careful,” said Stark, crossing his arms defensively. “He’s my soulmate.”

Agent Barton made a rather uncouth noise, like he was pretending to choke on his last meal. “Please tell me it’s platonic,” he begged.

“He’s been setting giant squirrels on us for the past two hours, and you want to ask whether it’s _platonic?”_

“Well, they do say that your perfect match can be any kind of relationship,” said Captain Rogers, shrugging his shoulders. “I guess you found the perfect enemy.”

“Ooh,” said Loki, using a wash of magic to render himself visible just as he pressed the edge of his dagger against Stark’s throat. “I think I rather like that.”

Most of the Avengers immediately sprung into action, reaching for weapons and preparing to attack. Thor didn’t. He was grinning like a loon, and repeatedly hitting Hulk in the arm with that annoyingly excitable ‘ _look, look, look at this!’_ rhythm that Loki knew only too well. Loki was glad when the green beast slammed a fist against the side of Thor’s head, sending him crashing off the edge of the roof. The action certainly expressed a sentiment that Loki could empathise with.

Stark, though, he was… he was leaning into Loki’s grasp like he was comfortable there, the full length of his spine pressing against Loki’s chest and his head falling back against Loki’s shoulder. Even with the hard barriers of Loki’s leather armour and Stark’s suit, something about the position just felt natural.

And the spark that flared between them was _divine._

“Stark,” Loki hissed dramatically, leading up to say something positively witty and exceptionally devastating, but—

“Aw, come on, Bambi, surely we’re on a first name basis by now?”

There was moment where Loki was about to reply with a complaint about the nickname, but the moment was fleeting, because there was only one true response to such impertinence. Loki had always been skilled at giving just as good as he got, and sparring with Tony Stark had quickly become one of his favourite things.

“Will Anthony suffice, then?” he drawled, feeling a spark of enjoyment as those brown eyes lit up with the challenge.

Even in the following scuffle and subsequent destruction of property, Loki found the banter not only entertaining, but also beautifully _pleasurable._

They really were well matched.

Not all electricity is lightning, after all. Sometimes, it’s generated by the concoctions of clever minds, and manipulated by hands so skilled, they create wonders which cause even gods to marvel.

(Midgardian electricity can be breathtaking, when it’s wielded by Tony Stark.)

Mother. Fucking. _Aliens._

What was it about aliens and New York? Were they all so insulted by the multiple movies that all portray the very same situation with the humans coming out on top, and they want to prove that actually, they _could_ destroy the city if they wanted? Or maybe they _like_ the movies and want to star in one of their own?

Whatever their reason, the fact of the matter was that a group of lizard men had landed their ship right on top of Grand Central– practically on Tony’s front door, the _bastards_ – and had spewed out onto the streets.

There weren’t too many of them, maybe fifty in all. But there were enough that the Avengers were severely outnumbered, and although they’d tried to set up a perimeter with assistance from the NYPD, they were all getting swamped and the aliens broke through.

The Avengers were forced to separate.

Tony found himself alone and surrounded, on the ground and bogged down. His lasers couldn’t cut through their skin and while his repulsors worked a charm he only had the two hands, and there were at least a good dozen of the bloody things coming at him from all sides.

He blasted the guts out of one with his right hand and spun to knock another down with his left. JARVIS deployed a missile from his shoulder without asking and managed to get another one, and—

Tony turned just in time to see a weapon aimed at his head, the muzzle already glowing white hot, ready to fire. There would be no time to get out of the way.

Then the lizard man choked on the blade that punctured his throat from behind, and both he and his weapon fell to the ground.

And there, of course, was Loki.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Tony said, his words aching with gratitude.

“I could hardly let you have this much fun without me,” Loki drawled.

“It’ll be nice to fight on the same side,” Tony told him. He didn’t wait for a reply– merely grinned at the shocked, but almost _fond_ glint in Loki’s eye, and then launched himself into the air so he could go another round with the alien fucks.

Tony had seen Loki fight before, but never with a true intent to kill. Their recent scuffles had been no more than what the term implied, tussles and play-fights that came closer to a game than any real violence. The closest thing he had to compare was when he’d seen Loki fighting Steve in Stuttgart, but even then– if Loki had thrown in everything he had, Steve wouldn’t have lasted near as long as he did. But in that moment, surrounded by aliens and fighting to kill, Loki danced with a burning passion. His smile was infectious even when the physical exertion must have been high, his eyes blazing a bright, bright green. He had opted not to wear his helmet, and his hair whipped through the air with every twist and turn. His blades cut a bloody path through their enemies, and it was truly amazing to watch.

And fighting _with_ Loki?

It was like nothing else Tony had ever felt. They had spent so long fighting against one another that they were able to move in sync, weaving in and around each other as one half of a perfect team. A surprise blast struck Tony particularly hard in the side after he was distracted shooting down a lizard that had been about to maul Loki’s back, and he was thrown to the ground with heavy crunch. Tony was all right but Loki _snarled_ , and then he was fighting just as much with his powers as he was with his blades. The green magic that had danced under Tony’s skin for as long as could remember flashed through the air, ripping and tearing and destroying every creature that crossed its path. Loki was glowing, his whole body alight with a brightness that made him appear ethereal and impossible and yet fantastically _there_.

It made Tony feel amazingly, incredibly _alive_ in a way he didn’t think he ever had before.

It was over quickly, then, their area cleared by fierce slashes and blasts of technology and magic combined. JARVIS confirmed that the others had managed to catch all of the rest, and that the city was now clear. SHIELD and the DODC were even already swooping in to begin the usual custody battle over the alien debris.

But Tony didn’t pay attention to any of that, opting instead to turn to look at his partner.

Loki was already watching him, his gaze roaming carefully over Tony’s armour as if checking for damage. Upon finding none, his lips quirked up into a small smile, and he looked at Tony with such relief that Tony thought he could feel it himself.

Then, in one quick, fluid movement, Loki pitched forward as his legs buckled– and the sound of his knees cracking against the concrete echoed painfully as it shattered the small moment of peace.

Anthony all but tumbled out of the suit as he rushed forward, his knees hitting the ground only a foot or so away and his fingers immediately moving to cradle Loki’s face.

“Hey Lokes, you’re all right,” Anthony said, his fingers trembling against Loki’s skin, his eyes wide and scared. “You are all right, aren’t you?”

Slowly, so as not to incite dizziness, Loki glanced down to where one of his hands was pressed against the slippery wet patch on his side, drops of blood oozing between his fingers.

“When did that happen?” Anthony exclaimed in horror, pressing one of his own hands hard against the wound. “When did you—“

Loki shook his head, not wanting to admit that it had been when Anthony was distracted and hadn’t noticed Loki intercepting a blast aimed at him from behind. Absently, he pushed some of his seiðr through his fingers and into the wound, fighting the fatigue and mustering enough energy to numb some of the pain. 

"Loki?" 

His gaze snapped up, realising that Anthony was still waiting for an answer. He thought it best that he clear his throat before speaking, so as not to worry him further with hoarseness.

“I’ll heal.”

“That’s not the point!” Anthony said immediately. “We need to get you to—“

“Please,” Loki groaned. “Do not insult me by saying the word _hospital.“_

“Loki, that looks bad—“

“I’m not going to allow some _mortal_ to touch me,” Loki retorted.

“You’re letting me touch you,” Anthony said, his gaze flickering to where one of his hands had come to rest on Loki’s shoulders, the tips of his fingers just brushing against the bare skin at Loki’s neck, while the other was still pressing against the wound to the extent that it was almost entwined with Loki's own.

“Yes,” Loki said quietly, making no attempt to move away. “I suppose I am.”

There was a poignant silence broken only by the sounds of their ragged breathing as they both considered the implications of that admission. This time, the emotions flickering across Anthony’s face weren’t masked at all– they were bright and raw, and Loki felt his breath catch just seeing them, because even though he had never seen such things directed at _him_ before, he knew enough to recognise what they meant.

Loki felt hot, and all of a sudden, he became _very_ aware of just how close they were.

He cleared his throat again and averted his gaze, forcing himself to turn his attention back to his injury.

“Really,” Loki said. “I’m fine, it will not last long at all. Look, here.” He pulled their hands away to show Anthony how the bleeding had already begun to slow. The faint, familiar itch let him know that the skin started to knit back together. “It would have healed already, had my seiðr not been focused on the fight,” he explained.

“Surely there’s something I can do,” Anthony pleaded, his fingers digging into Loki’s shoulder. And Loki wanted to tell him that all he had to do was stay, that his very presence was helping Loki stay alert, distracting him from the pain that his seiðr hadn't been able to entirely eliminate. If Anthony could stay, then things would be all right. But… there was something Loki needed to know, first.

“Why are you doing this?” Loki asked, and as soon as he said the words he half regretted them, because if he thought about it, he already knew the answer.

 _Soulmate_.

Loki didn’t think he wanted to hear it. It hurt more than it should, thinking that the only reason Anthony cared was because of the impression forced upon him from birth. Thinking back to how he had treated Thor, how he had taken his brother’s love for granted because he saw it not as a gift, but as a product of their supposed match– well, to be honest, he was surprised that Thor had stood by him as long as he had. He didn’t want things to be that way with Anthony, because he had started to care for Anthony now in a way that went far beyond simple chance. His affection for that captivating mortal had grown slowly but surely, blossoming and deepening until Loki could hardly remember a time when he’d felt otherwise.

No, he didn’t think he wanted to hear that particular term just now.

But Anthony had always acted contrary to expectation, and when he spoke, his words rang with a deeper truth than his claims of their match ever had.

“Because you’re my friend, Loki.”

Not soulmate, after all.  

 _Friend_.

The word was warm, and kind.

And somehow, Loki thought, it felt far more real than anything that was designed by fate.

Loki had believed that what he’d had with Thor was perfect, and had been devastated to be told that wasn’t true. He knew better now, though, and actually, he’d been right all along. He and Thor weren’t _matched_ , but that didn’t mean they weren’t brothers, or that they weren’t still just as close as they had always been. They’d done that themselves. And sure, things hadn’t been ideal between them since the coronation– but neither were they as bad as Loki had dreaded they’d become.

So maybe what Anthony had said that day in his tower was the truth. Maybe it really was a choice, in the end– and if that was the case, if he could truly _choose,_ then Loki knew it would be all too easy to just let go and fall in love with Tony Stark.

With Anthony looking at him just like _that_ , Loki knew that the mortal felt the same way– and knowing that, it became the simplest thing in the world to lean down and press their lips together in a gentle kiss.

It was uncomfortable and slippery– they were both wet with Loki’s blood and the grime from the fight, messy and sweaty and with the aches and pains of a hundred bruises. The concrete was hard and unyielding, and there were stones and dirt pressing into their kneecaps, grazing the skin through their clothes. The ground around them was littered with the gory remains of the fight, and the stench of death was ripe in the air.

But Anthony’s lips were warm and sweet, and his hands ignited a trail of pleasure with every possessive touch. Every inch of Loki’s body was singing as electricity crackled through every vein, across every nerve, and he moaned against Anthony with the aching desperation for just a little bit _more_. It was only a kiss, but it woke something in him that he didn’t know existed. And despite the destruction all around them, Loki thought that it just might be one of the most perfect moments of his life.

Anthony pulled back first, but he didn’t go far. His eyes remained closed as he brushed his lips along the curve of Loki’s throat, before tightening his arms around Loki’s shoulders and leaning almost fully against him. Loki’s injury was hardly bothering him anymore, healed enough that the pain had been chased away by something far more powerful. He fell into the hug as his own arms tightened around Anthony’s waist, both of them relishing in the closeness to the person that their souls _and_ their hearts yearned for.

 _This is my match_ , Loki thought to himself, hiding his smile in Anthony’s hair. _Yes_ , _I think I’ll keep you._

And when Anthony glanced up with a bright smile and a hopeful question on his lips, Loki knew that he had made the right decision.

“So where do you want to go from here?”

Loki smirked. There really was only the one answer, after all. “How about a stiff drink and a roll in the hay?”

Anthony just threw back his head and _laughed_.

(Loki wouldn’t admit it out loud, but that laugh was one of the most beautiful sounds he’d ever heard.)

After Loki threw Tony out of the penthouse window– well, yeah, they were both pretty devastated. Every relationship has its challenges, but by never giving up and holding on tight, they were able to travel the distance themselves and come out the other side all the stronger.

Soulmates or not– in the end they chose each other, and that’s what matters the most.


End file.
